Protection Service
by Tyminator
Summary: Frank Martin is known around the world for his exceptional drving skills. So what happens when James Bond wants Frank's newest client dead?


Frank Martin gripped the steering wheel of his black Audi A8 and tried to calmly find a way out of his current situation.

The police had set up roadblocks on both side streets of a four-way intersection. Behind him, four police cars were bearing down on him with their sirens blaring. Up ahead, another road block was set up. The hysterical man in the back seat wasn't helping the cause much either.

"What the bloody hell are you doing!" he screamed. "Drive!"

Frank floored it, going from a dead stop in the middle of a British intersection to sixty miles per hour in under six seconds. 5.9 seconds to be exact.

He was headed for the police roadblock ahead at the Audi's top speed of 155 miles per hour. He closed the distance fast, which is probably why the man in the backseat started going crazy.

"Are you out of your bloody mind? You're gonna get us killed!"

But Frank wasn't planning on dying anytime soon, especially not today. At the last possible second, Frank hit the brakes and cranked the wheel hard left. This maneuver brought the back of Frank's car scraping against the side of the first police car in the blockade. His car drifted into a glass building that was about ten feet from the road.

Frank braced for impact.

The glass shattered without much bumping and shaking, but the wooden desks and metal rods that supported the building provided Frank and his passenger with a bumpy and jolting ride. Civilians dove from behind their desks as a big, black luxury car loomed over them. Frank tried to take a path avoided them, but he didn't really care, just as long as he got the job done.

After what seemed like an eternity, the Audi blasted out the other end of the building into a small park filled with trees and a small pond in the middle. Frank navigated the park with ease and was soon back onto a street far away from the original blockades. When he could no longer hear sirens, Frank whipped into a side street with a maneuver similar to the one he had used earlier. This time, Frank stomped hard on the brakes.

"What the hell?" the man in the backseat yelled as he flew forward into the back of Frank's seat.

"Two things," Frank growled. "One: wear a seatbelt. And two: don't even think about yelling at me again. Ever. Do you understand?"

The man snorted.

"I said, do you understand?"

"Yeah man. I read you loud and bloody clear. Now could we please get out of here?"

"There," Frank said. "That's better."

Frank pulled the lever into reverse and backed out of the alley.

After about thirty minutes of driving, Frank pulled into the local port, which was the man's destination. Frank didn't know why the man wanted to get to the port, nor did he know why the man had to rob a bank before he came, but it was none of Frank's business. He was just the driver. All he was told was that a man would exit a bank at four-thirty in the afternoon, on the dot. He was going to be paid $200,000 just to get the man to the port. He didn't even know the man's name, which all for the better. That was one of Frank's rules. No names. Ever.

Frank pulled a stop and the man opened the door. Before he left, the man said, "Hey man, I'm supposed to offer you another job."

"You already used me once, why would you need to use me again?" Frank replied.

"Not for me. For my boss. He's heard of you and said he wants me to offer you a million dollars, in cash for a transport."

"A million dollars?" Frank said. "Your boss must be a very important man."

"Yeah well, he told me to tell you that he needs to be picked here at the port at noon tomorrow. He says that if you decide to take the job, he'll be wearing a green hat."

"Here, tomorrow, noon, green hat. Got it."

"So you'll take it?"

Frank paused before he replied, "I'll take it."

James Bond strolled into M's office after having a few flirtatious words with the always lovely Miss Moneypenny. He strode across the elegant office and casually sat down in one of the designer chairs that M had paid a fortune for. There were two things that M loved more than anything, and that was wine and fancy furniture.

"Good morning, James," the head of the Secret Service said.

"And the same to you M," Bond replied. "Are there any new…assignments that require my assistance?"

"James," M said with a sigh. "I need you to listen carefully. You trust me, right?"

"Why of course, M."

"James, I need your help with a personal problem. There is a man named Ian Winters that needs to be…disposed of. But it cannot be traced back to MI6."

Bond leaned forward in the expensive chair.

"Why M, I've got a license to kill don't I? What difference does it make?"

"Well Bond, you've obviously never heard of Ian Winters before have you?"

"It seems to ring a bell, but I can't place who he is."

"James," M said in a low voice. "He's a member of the prime minister's cabinet."

James leaned back in the chair and took a deep breath. He was speechless. He couldn't believe what M was telling him. Why would the director of MI6 want a cabinet member dead?

"W-why?" Bond finally stuttered.

M lit a cigar and inhaled deeply. The smoke and fumes slowly trickled throughout the room.

"I can't tell you all of the specifics James, but we know that he is working with the Government of Russia. We have intercepted a series of encrypted transmissions sent from a position somewhere in London. We still aren't sure of the exact location that the messages were sent, but they piqued our interest when we found out that they were being sent to Russia. Q had been working on decrypting them for the past week. He eventually cracked the code and revealed a series of phone calls placed from a computer in London that were sent directly to the Russian prime minister himself."

"And what did was on the phone calls?" Bond asked.

"The prime minister of Russia was talking to an unknown voice, about planting a bomb in the Parliament building. Tomorrow." "Parliament meets tomorrow at noon," Bond said. "Do we know who the other voice was?"

"Q ran it through voice recognition. It was Winters."

Bond stood up.

"Where do I find him?"


End file.
